


How Fair the Vine

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Family, Female Character of Color, First Time, Food, Het and Slash, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Marriage, Married Couple, Masturbation, Multi, Nonmonogamous Relationship, Post-Canon, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No, Jensen's not jealous. He's just envious as hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Fair the Vine

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to [](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lunesque**](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/), who puts up with my angst and fretting and gives me a much-needed confidence boost. She's an excellent beta and an awesome cheerleader and told me to post this tonight. So I am.

Before the team went on the lam from a covert, coo-coo for cocoa puffs CIA operative with an unrealistic bankroll and the ability to build sci-fi level explosives, Sundays were grill nights. It was a chance for the team to wind down, kick back, relax, drink and conversate about normal stuff like how awesome Jensen's niece was at conquering everything to Jolene's and Pooch's engagement to Cougar and his genius methods of cheating at cards, even though he denied he cheated. Sort of. Cougar mostly just sat there and grinned and everyone kept playing anyway.

So with Max sort of gone and their lives sort of in order and everyone high off the Petunias' win despite the ref's multiple bogus calls, Jensen proposes re-igniting grill nights. Which might've been a poor choice of words, but the words shouldn't count so much as the idea behind them and everyone should have understood what he meant.

"Understood what?" Liz laughs. "Not to give you anything that goes boom?"

"Or lighter fluid," Pooch chimes in. As if Liz really needs back up on this one.

"It was only that once," Jensen says.

Liz looks at Jensen, one of those long 'you better 'fess up or I will for you' looks guaranteed to get Jensen into trouble. "Liar."

"Fine." Jensen is almost tempted to stick his tongue out at her, but he refrains. 'Cause he's mature like that. "Twice."

Liz snorts. "Four times, Jensen."

"It wasn't four!"

"Was, too." Liz lets go of Beth's hands and starts ticking off her fingers. "The first grill night, you almost set my apartment complex on fire."

"Yeah, okay," Jensen concedes. "But the second time was an accident."

"Accident!" Liz turns to the rest of the team. "He dumped an entire bottle of lighter fluid into the trash can to get rid of the maggots."

Everyone stops to look at him for confirmation, and Jensen stops mid-shudder at the memory. "I deny everything." He starts whistling, but the sound doesn't come out right, so he gives up in favor of shoving his hands into his pockets and looking at the sky. It's bright and blue and clear. Just like his conscience. "But there might have been an incident with a certain infestation that couldn't be handled any other way."

Liz laughs. "Bullcrap." She claps her hands together. "Oh! And the third time, you helped me set Tom's clothes on fire."

Jensen winces when Beth stops skipping and tugs on Liz's shirt. "Why would Uncle Jensen set daddy's clothes on fire, mom?"

Liz ruffles Beth's hair and grin. "Because, honey. Daddy did some bad things and had to be punished."

"You can't hold that against me," Jensen says. "I was being an awesome big brother and helping you through your emotional turmoil."

"Yeah, but you still dumped so much lighter fluid into the trash can that my neighbors ended up calling the fire department."

Jensen throws up his hands. "I can never catch a break with you." He shakes his head and stares at Liz. "So what's four?"

Liz grins in a way that makes Jensen fear for his safety. It's the wily grin that means she's got a juicy secret and under the right circumstances, might be willing to forego Jensen's complete and utter ruin for something epic. Last time, it was his VW bug. One of the classics. He still misses that car. "Your pants."

"My pa—" Jensen's eyes widen. Liz laughs — all great villains have to perfect their laugh and she's got hers _down_ — and Pooch shoots Jensen one of his 'what have you done now?' looks. "Okay, so that was a great walk down memory lane. Grill nights? Is it on? Or back on? Or on _fiyah_?"

Pooch opens his mouth like he's planning on asking the question that Jensen is trying to make everyone forget. Max should have built a telepathic, memory-sucking _laser_ instead of a SNOOK. So Jensen waits for the question like he used to wait for a punch that he knew he couldn't avoid. You know, before he became a buff, genius member of the 5th Special Forces Group, aka the Losers.

Jensen turns his face to the side as if not looking will actually make the punch hurt less, but he squints his eyes because hey, a guy wants to see a punch coming in the futile hope that he can brace for it. It's a vicious cycle, one rife with possibility, pre-ordained by the cruelty of—

"So someone will need to go to the store," Jolene says, and the universe's long-term love affair with Jensen continues. If Jo wasn't married (or at least married to Jensen's long-time buddy), Jensen would kiss her. A full on dip, movie-style kind of kiss. "I don't mind going. I need a few things anyway."

Pooch drapes an arm across her shoulders and pats Jamaar's back. "Guess that means I'm going, too."

"I wanna go!" Beth jumps up and down and waves her hands until everyone is looking at her. "Can I go, mom? Please, please, _please_?"

"Uh-uh." Liz taps the tip of Beth's nose, and just like Jensen, Beth hates it and scrunches up her face. "You have a room to clean up if we're going to have guests."

Jensen is busy minding his own business — the trees, the sky, the cute soccer moms strutting to their cars — when Liz shoves him. Fortunately, Jensen comes with full-on special operations force reflexes and doesn't face plant into the concrete.

"Jensen will go," Liz says. Jensen glares at her over his shoulder 'cause she is seriously pushing the limits of Jensen faking his own death and owing her big time. "He can help you guys carry groceries and keep Jamaar entertained then direct you back to my place."

No point in arguing — Liz will only find a new way to torture him — so Jensen sighs out an, "Okay." Plus, it'll be awesome to catch some time with Jolene and Pooch, so he looks at the rest of the team. "So what does everyone want?"

He should have clarified and said 'need.' The list ends up being a long one, mostly because Beth wants candy but not the fruity kind 'cause it's gross and not the stuff with nuts 'cause it hurts her teeth and not a lot of things that she thought Jensen forgot 'cause he was sort-of-dead-but-not-really for a long time. By the time Jensen jumps into the car, ready to be rescued, Jolene is laughing and Pooch is shaking his head.

"Ready?" Pooch asks, glancing at Jensen in the rearview.

"Like apple sauce."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Language," Jolene laughs, her fingers slotting neatly between Pooch's on the gear shift.

"The baby's asleep. He won't know."

"Mm-hm, but I will."

It's the tamest argument Jensen has ever seen, and it ends with a sweet and loving kiss. It's nice, seeing a marriage that works. Jensen wishes Liz had been that lucky. Or his mom. Or any of the billion other marriages that fall apart. He immediately presses abort on that line of thought, which means his brain-to-mouth filter goes out of commission.

"So am I next in line for kissing?"

He winces, waiting for the verbal — or physical — smack down that usually happens when he can't make himself shut up, but Jolene looks at him over her seat, and she's smiling like it's a reasonable request.

"From who? Me or Pooch?"

"Uh ... ." Jensen blinks. "Both?"

Jolene laughs, but Jensen doesn't get the impression that she's laughing _at_ him. She's not laughing with him since he's obviously not laughing, but he's not the brunt of some secret joke either.

"How are you going to volunteer my lips like that?" Pooch asks, and he doesn't sound nearly as outraged as Jensen was expecting. Maybe because the two of them have kissed. Not dying tends to be a high unlike any other. Stuff happens. Kissing stuff.

Jolene lifts Pooch's hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. "I wasn't, baby. Who you kiss is your choice so long as those lips come back home to me."

Jensen is positive that he's missing something critical here, but he's having a slow time with his mental reboot. He can't get rid of all the pop ups of him and Pooch, and with Jo added to the mix, it only multiplies the images.

~*~

"Hey, little buddy, _up_ we go." Jensen makes an airplane sound and lifts the carrier up, hooking it onto the seat of the cart while Jolene tries to translate the crumpled list Jensen handed to her.

"Honey, can you read this?" Jo quietly asks Pooch.

"Not even gonna try." Pooch takes the list from her and hands it back to Jensen. "All we need are burgers, dogs, buns, and chips."

"And fruit," Jolene adds, smiling as she grabs Jensen's arm and pulls him out of someone's way. It's a pretty smooth move. "Maybe a vegetable tray."

"You get the healthy stuff, and I get the rest?" Pooch asks. Jolene nods, and they share a kiss. Then they head off in opposite directions, Pooch taking Jamaar and the cart with him, Jolene heading toward produce, which leaves Jensen standing in the middle.

"Wait, where am I going?" he asks.

"Take your pick," Pooch tosses over his shoulder and then vanishes down an aisle.

Jensen considers his options, turns, and hurries to catch up with Jolene.

"So what's the plan?" he asks, sidling up to her. "Fruit basket, decoration, or still paintings?"

Jolene laughs like she gets the joke, which makes Jensen grin. "Something simple." Except she walks past all the simple stuff like the bananas and berries and grapes. Beth loves grapes.

"Simple like ... ?" Jensen asks.

"Melons."

Jensen raps his knuckles against one of the watermelons. "So knock knock."

Jolene laughs and grabs one of the honeydew melons instead. "You are so silly." But then her lips curve into a conspiratorial smile that has Jensen hopping right by her side to share in the secret. His heart isn't fluttering at their close proximity. "Wanna learn the trick to these?"

Jensen nods with a, "Yeah, sure," his arm brushing against Jolene's when she motions him closer.

She holds up a honeydew, and Jensen doesn't break it to her that melons don't work like seashells. Jolene smoothes her fingers over the melon's surface; Jensen waits. It's all pretty anti-climactic.

"So knock knock?" Jensen asks.

Jolene laughs and sets the melon down. "My grandpa taught me how to find a good melon. It's all in the smell." She smiles and playfully bumps Jensen with her hip as she reaches for another melon. "Don't worry, though. Pooch isn't any good at picking melons either."

"Yeah?" Jensen watches Jolene run her fingers over the rough surface of another honeydew, her hair falling over her shoulder before she flicks it back again. "We like our food easily packaged."

She glances up at him, her mouth curved into that warm smile like they're sharing a joke — which Jensen guesses they are since he's telling them — and he's caught by how _sexy_ Jolene is. It's not a porn star centerfold kind of sexy; it's just Jolene, confident and comfortable and beautiful. Jensen really wants to kiss her, as soft and sweet as Pooch does. Which makes a lot of sense 'cause there's something about Jolene's smile, something about _her_ , that invites tender moments like kissing and hand holding and sleepy cuddling — But these aren't the kinds of thoughts Jensen should still be having about his buddy's _wife_. Some odd years later, a marriage proposal, and Bolivia should have gotten rid of all of those.

Jensen blinks, darting a look around to see if he's been caught staring only to have his attention drawn to the strap of Jolene's sun dress when it slides off her shoulder. Jensen still has an urge to kiss that patch of skin, but his common sense bitch slaps his lizard brain, and he ends up laughing for no reason at all. Way to be incognito there, Jensen. He manages a grin in response to the unspoken question in Jolene's eyes and walks around to heft one of the watermelons.

"So you don't knock on these?" he asks.

Jolene shakes her head. "Nope."

Jensen presses his ear to the watermelon and knocks on it anyway. "Because you know what they say."

Jolene laughs and straights. "And what do they say?"

Jensen sets the melon down. "Knock, knock."

"Okay, who's there?"

"Lego."

"Lego who?"

"Lego of me and I'll tell you." He feels a sheepish grin cross his face as he reaches for another watermelon. "Beth told me that one. She's got a ton."

Jensen's not expecting Jolene's fingers to squeeze around his forearm — wow, innocuous touching shouldn't make him so jittery — but he stays right where he is and accepts it for the platonic kind of touching that it is.

"Good," Jo says. "You can share some of them with Pooch."

Her elbow bumps his side for confirmation, and all Jensen can do is nod and _not_ think about the way Jolene keeps running her fingers over each melon in search of the perfect one.

~*~

Jensen is doing the watching but not watching thing. It's so much easier when it's just him, his laptop, and several cameras discreetly located on the perimeter. But he's not in the safety of his apartment or out in the van with Pooch while the rest of the team plants the surveillance equipment or infiltrates a terrorist stronghold or any of the thousands of things they used to be sent out for. Nope. Jensen is seated on the couch in the middle of Liz's living room in the center of his team, every single member perceptive as hell, and trying not to stare at Jolene, who's perched in Pooch's lap, feeding him pieces of melon. At least the sun is finally setting, dimming the room, so Jensen's furtive glances can be more furtive and less, 'please look at me, kicked puppy' and _obvious_.

Pooch and Jolene keep kissing, too — pecks on the cheek, to the forehead. Pooch even kisses Jolene's shoulder when the strap of her dress slips down again.

"You want some?" Pooch asks, startling Jensen out of his 'can't think about Pooch's wife, can't think about Pooch's wife' litany while he nurses his third beer. He blinks, because Pooch is _not_ offering Jolene, and shrugs.

"Sure." Jensen reaches for the plate, but Jolene takes it away and drops onto the couch between them. "Or, uh, not."

"Open," she says with a smile, a chunk of melon held between her fingers.

Jensen glances at Pooch, but Pooch is asking if anyone else wants a beer. It doesn't look like anyone's paying him and Jolene any attention, so Jensen shrugs and opens his mouth. The honeydew is cold as it slides onto his tongue, but it's sweet. Perfectly ripe. Jo does know how to pick 'em.

"Good?" she asks.

Jensen's about to answer, but the pad of her thumb swipes over his bottom lip, and he nearly chokes on the melon that he's hastily trying to swallow. He turns his head, hacking into his fist, and his eyes start to water. Way to be smooth, he tells himself, and tries to dislodge the piece of melon stuck in his throat. He tries to give everyone the thumbs up but jumps at the feel of Jolene's hand on his back, her warm palm rubbing soft circles between his shoulder blades.

"Don't you dare die on me, Jensen," Liz warns and replaces his beer with a glass of water. "Ghost or not, I will kick your butt."

Good to know his sister can at least keep her priorities straight.

~*~

When Jensen wakes up, it's not hard for him to figure out that he's the last. One, all the hot water is gone, but the cold water effectively kills his morning hard on, and two, Clay has already hit the road. Jensen shuffles to the kitchen and stops, blinking at the sight of Cougar and Jolene throwing down in the kitchen Iron Chef style. Jensen is _not_ jealous. Not at the way Jo smiles when she hip bumps Cougar out of the way so she can get access to the stove or the way she blows on the spoon and then holds it up to Cougar with a flirtatious, "Here, taste."

Cougar makes a low sound that Jensen categorizes as orgasmic and nods, and Pooch keeps bouncing Jamaar on his knee like Cougar and Jolene aren't having food sex right in front of him. Jensen clears his throat and drops into the vacant seat at the table next to his sister.

"Good morning."

Jolene tosses the spoon into the sink and smiles at him, bright and beaming. "Morning, Jensen. Breakfast is almost ready."

"You get served last since you took so long waking up," Liz says and lays down another card in front of Beth.

Jensen blinks at the table, momentarily distracted by Jo in the kitchen and leans over to take a closer look. "Are you teaching Beth Spanish?"

"Yes." Liz flashes him a snide grin and lays down another card. "It's important to be multilingual in this global economy. Get with the program, Jensen."

"I'm with the program," Jensen mutters, his eyes flitting back to the kitchen, where Jo has her hand curled around Cougar's forearm and is laughing softly at something he said.

No, Jensen's not jealous. He's just envious as hell.

~*~

A day left, and they'll be going their separate ways. Or as separate as they can get considering how everyone looks at each other across the table and knows that miles don't mean anything.

Jensen nearly jumps out of his seat when Jolene nudges his shin under the table, but at least he's not choking.

"You can live with us," she says. Her smile is sweet, open and inviting, and Jensen wants to step right into it. "While you're looking."

Pooch's hands drop onto Jensen's shoulders, squeeze just enough to make Jensen want to lean back. "Maybe babysit?" Pooch laughs.

"No, not babysit," Jo says with a shake of her head and an exasperated, loving expression aimed at Pooch. "Don't listen to him." Jolene squeezes Jensen's knee, and it's almost too much all at once. "We have a spare room. All you have to do is help me clean up." Another warm smile. "Maybe you'll learn how to fix yourself a decent meal."

"Yes." Jensen meant no. He's positive he meant to say no, but he doesn't know how to, not when Pooch squeezes his shoulders harder and Jolene's smile gets bigger and brighter. Who wouldn't want to be between that?

~*~

Dude, what the hell? Jensen asks himself, his face planted into the pillow, and his dick hard because he can't stop thinking about Jo — and fruit — and Pooch, who are happily _married_ and have a baby. Not the fruit. It's obviously smart enough to not come between two people who are very committed to each other.

Jensen flops onto his back, shoves a hand down his boxers and strokes his cock using nothing but the sweat on his palm. He just wants to come and then go back to sleep and then get up in the morning and be able to eat a piece of fruit without thinking about Jolene — who, Jensen reminds himself, is in the next room over with Pooch. Her husband. But his thoughts keep slipping to the way the melon juice slides down her fingers or what the inside of her wrist tastes like or her tongue — soft, sliding into Jensen's mouth — or god, his cock — _fuck_. Jensen digs his heels into the bed, his spine bowing, and he comes hard on that image.

He lays in bed, dazed, his cock twitching in his hand, boxers wet, and throws an arm over his face. He amends his mental notation to 'and then clean up and then go back to sleep and then get up in the morning.'

He'll figure the rest out from there.

~*~

Jamaar is with Liz, and they are very, very, _very_ drunk. Pooch can't whip up a meal like Jo can, but he can whip up a drink that'll knock you on your ass. Jensen's on his second one now, leaned up against the love seat, his face hot from the liquor. He can't even remember how he got invited to the party, but it's a good one. Jolene giggles, and Jensen turns. It feels like swimming. Looks like it, too, because his vision is all blurry and things tilt a little to the right. And then the left. And then the right again.

Jolene laughs again, and Jensen blinks, narrowing his eyes to _focus_. He blinks and then shakes his head, but Pooch is very clearly on top of Jo, pressing her into the couch. She has one leg wrapped around him, her skirt sliding up and revealing a slice of thigh. They're kissing. Jensen blinks. More like Pooch is plundering Jo's mouth. Jensen stares at his drink, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Jo's would taste like buttery nipples. He bet her nipples would taste just as fantastic.

Jensen scrubs a hand down his face and staggers to his feet. If he were sober, he'd probably be grateful that he's too drunk to get a boner. Jo giggles again, the sound cut short by a breathless gasp and then a long, hard moan. And Jensen has to leave. Right now. Just ... get out. He stumbles forward and barely catches himself, using the wall to regain his balance. Room, he thinks. Room.

"Jensen?" Soft lilt. A giggle.

Jensen's pretty sure he's dreaming that last part. It's not a bad dream. Too bad it's not his.

~*~

Jensen paces his room. It's a short trip and the bed keeps getting in his way, but the pacing gives him the mindless rhythm that he needs while he envisions several scenarios that all start with, 'Oh, hey, Pooch, so ... .'

 _We're friends, right? I just have to let you know that the way your wife touches fruit totally turns me on._ Fail.

 _I might be in love with you and your wife, so how do you guys feel about a third?_ Sounds creepy.

 _Your wife is incredible. You're a lucky, lucky man, and uh, I might be falling for her. Are you guys up for a platonic start to a lovefest that could blow all of our minds when you warm up to the idea?_ Double fail.

Two hours and fifty-three minutes later, Jensen still isn't sure how to frame it, even though there's a part of his brain where all of his sense is housed that says there shouldn't be any framing, just dogged repression because it _works_. His life is proof. If he pairs it with avoidance, he'll be good to go.

~*~

Jensen fumbles for the phone — he really needs to change the ring tone to something less terror-inducing — and hears his glasses clatter to the floor. He squints at the screen but can't make out the letters and answers with a sleepy, "Hello?"

"Jensen." Pooch. Who sounds pretty frazzled. "You at your place?"

"Uh ... ." Jensen rubs his eyes and tries looking at his watch, but his vision sucks too badly for him to make out the tick marks. "What time is it?"

"You better be dressed when I come to the door."

"Come to the—" Jensen rolls out of bed and crouches, sweeping a hand over the floor in search of his glasses. He bumps something that feels like his frames. "Care to fill me in on what's going on?"

He curls a hand around something and confirms that yes, he has found his glasses, disaster averted, when there's a knock at the door. Jensen jerks up and rams his toe into the wheel of the bed frame. He bites off a curse that would so make Liz punch him, probably in the face, and hobbles to the front door.

"Pooch? You still there—" The rest of the question dies when he looks through the peephole. "Never mind." Jensen unlocks the door, twists the second lock, twists the deadbolt, and swings the door open. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Making sure you're alive." Pooch gives Jensen a once over — which Jensen kindly poses for — and shakes his head. "A little old for the Pacman boxers, aren't you, man?"

"You're never too old for Pacm—Jo! What are you doing here?"

Jolene smiles, bouncing Jamaar in her arms. "Checking up on you. Can we come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure." Jensen holds the door open, hiding partially behind it, but there's nothing in easy reach that he can slip into or slip on, so he scrubs a hand through his hair and locks the door when Pooch and Jolene come inside. "You" — He jabs a thumb in the direction of his modest kitchen — "want something to drink?"'

Jolene shakes her head, and Pooch holds up the bags in his hand. "We brought food. Figured you didn't have anything but TV dinners."

"Nothing wrong with TV dinners. They make them healthy for all these fad diets nowadays."

Jolene softly laughs. "Can you hold Jamaar?" she asks, but she's already dropping a sleeping Jamaar into Jensen's arms before she takes the bags from Pooch and heads into the kitchen.

"Uh ... ."

"You'll get used to it," Pooch says and takes Jamaar, setting him gently into the carrier.

"Jensen," Jolene calls from the kitchen, "where are your plates?"

"Top cabinet, far left." Jensen glances at Pooch. "Care to tell me what's up? It sounded like an emergency."

Pooch glances in the direction. "Need help in there, Jolene?"

"Nope, I've got it."

Jensen watches her take down plates and glasses and then turns to Pooch again.

"May as well sit," Pooch says, dropping onto the couch.

"I'm going to get dressed first. This, uh, sounds important."

Pooch shrugs, and Jensen walks back to his room, wondering what the hell brought Pooch, Jolene, and Jamaar to his apartment when they live in different _states_ now, and concluding that this avoidance thing has failed. He yanks on a pair of jeans and gets a clean-smelling shirt over his head, so he's at least halfway decent. He grabs his glass cleaner and a microfiber cloth, cleans his glasses, takes a breath and walks back into the living room.

Jolene and Pooch share the futon, and Jensen's small coffee table is cramped with three plates piled high with food — chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans and corn. He hasn't had a hearty meal like that since — Well, since the last time he went to Pooch's and Jolene's house. Liz likes to torture Jensen every opportunity she gets, but one thing they agree on — other than their long and complicated backup plan for Beth in case something happens to both of them — is that microwaves and pre-packaged foods are things to be grateful for when Thanksgiving comes around.

"So ... ," Jensen starts and trails off as he takes the La-Z-Boy.

"You've been avoiding us," Jolene says, handing him his plate and a napkin. "Did we do something?"

"No!" Jensen nearly chucks his plate in his haste to reassure them and then remembers that Jamaar is sleeping so he should probably bring it down a few notches. "Of course not. It's just ... busy. You know, hacking into DOD takes a lot of concentration—"

"It's been three weeks," Pooch interrupts. "Even out in the field, I got a 'hey, what's up?'"

Jensen rolls a green bean toward his mashed potatoes. "Hey, what's up? It's 0700 and eight years in the Army still hasn't made me a morning person."

"Jensen." Jensen looks up from his plate and stares at Jolene's hand, loosely wrapped around his wrist. "Did we do something or ... or _say_ something that—"

"The way you touch fruit turns me on." Jensen blinks and stares at Jolene and Pooch staring at him, and of all the things he could have randomly said, _that_ shouldn't have been the first thing. "I mean—"

Pooch laughs and slaps his knee, but Jolene nudges him with an elbow.

"You mean?" she prompts.

The green bean falls into the well of Jensen's mashed potatoes. "I have a crush on you and Pooch and your happy, loving marriage."

The room falls silent, and Jensen peeks over the rim of his glasses to see Jolene and Pooch share a look. Everything's a blur, though, which is probably for the best. He takes a bite of his mashed potatoes, and they're creamy and good. He faintly wonders if Jolene or Pooch made them before he tries a bite of the chicken fried steak. Also good. Seasoned on the slightly spicy side, but it's flavorful.

"So what do you want, Jensen? A one-night stand?" Jensen nearly chokes, the food burning down the wrong windpipe _again_ , and weakly tries to cough it out. Jolene's leg brushes his when she rushes to his side, her hand warm and solid between his shoulder blades while he tries to shake this piece of food loose with a hard cough. She hands him a glass of water, and he takes it, grateful for the distraction it provides him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah." Jensen rasps, and he tries to clear his throat, taking another large gulp of water. "Peachy."

Jolene takes Jensen's plate and sets it on the table and then kneels at his feet. She uses his napkin to wipe something off of the corner of his mouth, and this is getting incredibly weird. He feels like he's in Bizarro land but without the perks of superpowers.

"So," Jensen starts but takes another sip of his water.

"Just tell us what you want," Pooch says, resting his arms over the back of the futon.

"Okay." Jensen sets his glass on the table, watches it to make sure it doesn't fall, and then switches between looking at Pooch and looking at Jolene. "I'm not really interested in a wham, bam, thank you, ma'am. Don't get me wrong, sex is great. I love it, but something lasting would be cool, too."

Jolene glances back at Pooch. "So you want to be our third?" she asks, eyes on Jensen again.

"Ye—" Jensen blinks. "Wait, how do you know about—" He watches Jolene hide a smile behind her hand. "What?"

Jolene squeezes Jensen's knee. "Me and Pooch are very happily married, but we're not monogamous."

"You're" — Jensen stares at them both because this is throwing him for a serious loop — "not?"

Pooch throws up his hands like Jensen has done something frustrating or dumb or said something off the wall like he usually does. "No."

"Uh ... ."

"We're not," Jolene repeats. "And I'm not interested in a one-night stand. I have a baby and a husband. I like having a stable home." Jensen's still stuck on the 'married but not monogamous' part of the equation because wow, you think you know somebody. "I like you, Jensen. I think you're sweet and funny. And I've learned from Pooch and the rest of the team that you're loyal and trustworthy and reliable, too."

Pooch sighs and then straightens in his seat, angling his body toward Jensen. "So if you're willing, me and Jolene think the three of us can work."

"You do?"

"Jesus, Jensen, what do we have to do, kiss you?" Pooch asks.

Jensen grins. "I wouldn't object."

He's kidding, so he doesn't expect Jolene to lift up and press her lips to his, her palm cradling his jaw and her other hand wrapped loosely around his knee. Jensen's too stunned to do anything but sit there until she pulls away, and then it's Pooch's mouth on his, the kiss harder than Jolene's.

"Stop avoiding us, man," Pooch murmurs against Jensen's mouth. "You had us worried."

"I, uh, didn't want to, you know, jeopardize ... stuff."

Jolene laughs and leans against Jensen's leg, stroking his shin. "If we want this to work, talking to each other is going to be really important."

"Yeah." Jensen nods and takes his plate when Jolene hands it back to him. "So, uh, Pooch? Dude, when did you—" Jensen motions his fork between them.

Pooch drops back onto the couch, closer this time, so he can squeeze Jolene's shoulder and smile down at her. "You know how it is. Don't Ask—"

"Don't Tell," Jensen finishes for him and nods. "Yeah. So ... us?"

Jolene snags Jensen's fork and loads a mouthful of mashed potatoes on it. "Last I heard," she says, and Jensen can't help but test this new thing between them. He leans in and kisses the dimple at the corner of her mouth, the skin soft and warm beneath his lips. Jolene catches his cheek and pulls him back down for another kiss, her teeth briefly pressing into his bottom lip before she pulls away and offers him the mashed potatoes on the fork. "You two weren't in the Army anymore."

It's Jensen who laughs this time. "Touché." The food tastes even better when Jolene feeds it to him.


End file.
